


Icebreakers

by bittersweet325



Category: Profiler (TV 1996)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28305036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersweet325/pseuds/bittersweet325
Summary: Pre-Series: George's immunity deal comes through just before Thanksgiving. Stuck in Atlanta for the holidays and brooding over his new situation, George isn't expecting to meet Rich who just moved into the same apartment building. Still dealing with the fallout of his plea deal, he's definitely not looking to pursue a relationship. So how come he keeps ending up in circumstances where he's flirting with Rich?
Relationships: George Fraley/Rich Warren
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7
Collections: Profiler Fans - Holiday 2020





	Icebreakers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serialbathera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serialbathera/gifts).



> So I definitely had to fudge a few details because my knowledge of Profiler is slightly less encyclopedic than it once was. Continuity errors and anachronisms are totally on me. I also 100% incorrectly remembered George as making his immunity deal with the FBI and not the Atlanta PD so yes, that is wrong, but just consider it an AU detail because I’d gone all in on that one before remembering. I probably made Rich a little too David Rose-esque at times, but given he has two canon lines of dialogue that's hopefully okay! Merry Christmas, Amanda :)

The deal came through just before Thanksgiving. George figured it was a relief to his mother. He was out of jail, and if he did everything he was supposed to do, it would stay that way. Going to Minnesota anytime soon was definitely out, and George had brushed off his mother’s offers to come to him for the holidays. He was in the clear as far as his myriad of legal problems went, but that didn’t mean he was quite ready for her to descend on him.

George had immunity from prosecution. He also had a job. Those were the pluses of the situation. He also had an electronic monitor that he was going to be living with for at least the next year, and five years where everything down to a traffic ticket could send him to jail. In his lower moments, the thought of five or more years stuck into playing tech support for the FBI for almost no money with the threat of jail hanging over his head was almost enough to make him wish he’d taken his chances with a trial.

About as depressing as his new salary was the reality of eating Thanksgiving dinner alone at a Denny’s. He thought it would have been less embarrassing to just tell the hostess he was a semi-convicted felon than to deal with the pitying looks. He wasn’t the only person there, but it was pretty clear they were all equally depressing. 

He tipped well, at least. He didn’t think he’d be doing that much anymore. Civil servants didn’t make the kind of bank he’d been clearing committing crimes.

He made his way back to his apartment thinking that maybe he should take his mom up on the offer that she’d come visit him in Atlanta for Chanukah. George wasn’t really religious anymore, but the thought of getting through another month of holidays with no real contact with anyone but his probation office was a little more than he was ready to take. 

“Hey! Hi!” Just as George was about to step inside the door of the building when he heard someone calling out. Another man, a handful of years younger than George was rushing towards the door. George stopped, holding the door open. “Thank God you’re here. I’ve been waiting about forty-five minutes for someone to come in or out. I left my key fob upstairs and had pretty much no idea how I was going to get in.” 

George didn’t say anything in return for a little too long before he realized that he was probably looking like a crazy person.

“Oh, yeah, no, I made the mistake of keeping that on a separate key chain when I first moved in. Huge mistake,” George’s lips twitched into half a smile. He stepped inside holding the door for the other man. 

“I feel a little better knowing I’m not the only one to make that mistake. Um, I’m Rich...Warren. Third floor,” He offered. “Don’t want you to think I’m trying to break in.” 

“George Fraley, second floor,” George pulled open the inside door that led to the lobby. “I’m pretty sure if you were breaking in, you’d have a better plan than run up to the first person you see walking in.” 

“Yeah, not exactly a criminal mastermind,” Rich smirked. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. “I owe you.” 

“For opening a door?” George looked at him skeptically. 

Rich just shrugged, “I’m a Yankee which I found out doesn’t get me very far down here. I figure I need to adopt some of that Southern Hospitality. I’m in 318. Come up and see me sometime.” 

George turned to hit the elevator button and glanced back at Rich. He was sure that he saw him wink at him before heading for the stairs. George thought about following him, but the elevator dinged, and he stepped into it before he could bring himself to follow. 

The fact that George’s new job was part of his deal meant he got to forego the usual background check. He knew that the guy on the other side of the desk knew all too well what he had been caught doing, and it was also pretty clear that there were some very mixed feelings about having what should be a convicted felon running tech support. 

He was relieved when they handed over an ID badge and all relevant credentials. At least he wouldn’t have to go through a metal detector next time and have to explain why he had a monitor strapped to his leg at all times. 

The worst part of it all was that George wanted to be excited. A few years ago, back in college, back in high school, the idea that he was going to be working for the FBI would have impressed the hell out of him. He wanted to be proud of what he was being asked to do, but it was impossible to ignore what had gotten him here and how lonely it felt now. His life of crime had hardly been all that exciting, but it had certainly had more in it than it did now. 

He was glad he was going to have a reprieve from actually starting work until January 2nd. It was probably the reason that he had reversed course quickly with his mom telling her that no, she should stay in Minnesota and that no, he was fine and that yes, he still had a menorah and that yes, he would definitely celebrate on his own. 

Only one lie was better than a whole bunch of them, he justified to himself. There was a menorah somewhere in a box. It would just probably be staying in that box. 

He stopped to grab his mail before heading up to his apartment to sulk. Was sulking a Chanukah tradition? He couldn’t remember.

“Hey, George, right?” The right was tacked on to the sentence as Rich walked past him to open his mailbox. “I’m about 50/50 on names,” He admitted. 

“Yeah, George,” He looked over at Rich, smiling. It wasn’t quite a carefree smile, but he had caught enough glimpses of Rich in the last couple of weeks to suspect they had a few things in common besides their inability to remember their key fobs. 

Rich retrieved his mail, closing the box again. He held up his keys.

“Took your advice. One keychain,” He walked over to the far wall, flipping through the stack in his hand and throwing out anything that looked like junk. 

“Secret to my success,” George glanced down at his own stack of mail. It also looked like mostly junk, but he found himself thinking it safer to stay on the far side of the mailroom from Rich. George had forgotten about the brand new ID badge he was holding in his hand just on top of the stack of mail just as Rich’s eyes settled on it. 

“That all, James Bond?” The FBI part of the badge was fairly apparent. Rich smirked. “I mean if you’re a secret agent, clearly the one keychain thing must be the least of your vast knowledge.” 

George was blushing. He was actually blushing.

“I’m an IT guy. I’m pretty much going to be sitting in a basement making sure the phones and the internet are working. I haven’t even started yet,” He turned his packet of mail along, shielding the badge as if that would make Rich unsee it.

“When someone thinks you’re James Bond, the answer is always why yes, I am,” He teased him. He brushed past him for the exit. “See you around, George.” 

George knew that his deal meant he was being let off of about a thousand less pleasant things, but it didn’t make meeting with his probation officer any more pleasant. He got that it was the guy’s job to be an asshole to him. George wondered if he’d ever stop feeling like a criminal, but had to remind himself that he was actually a criminal.

It was the first night of Chanukah. As expected, the menorah was still packed away, but George had decided that first night of Chanukah plus a shitty meeting with his probation officer meant he was going to buy an entire box of jelly donuts and go ahead with his new tradition of sulking. 

At least that had been the plan. 

He definitely had a box of donuts, and he definitely had sulked most of the way back to his building. But somehow, he found himself standing outside Apt. 318, a whole floor above where he was meant to be.  
“James Bond,” Rich smirked, answering the door. “Wasn’t expecting you,” He admitted, though he looked pretty amused about the whole situation. 

“Yeah, I, um...It’s Chanukah, and I usually go visit my mom, but she’s in Minnesota,” He was definitely rambling, but somehow couldn’t make himself quite stop. He was very, very out of practice, and a part of him worried he’d read the whole situation wrong. 

“You’re Jewish?” Rich jumped in, forcing George at least to take a breath.

George nodded, but then went to correct himself, “Um, not really. I mean, ethnically, yes, but I’m not really anything.”

“Same, but with Catholicism,” Rich offered sympathetically. 

“Anyway, I was on my way back from a...work meeting,” That didn’t sound convincing, though George would argue it wasn’t not true. “And I got a box of jelly donuts.”

“That’s a Chanukah thing?” 

“Sort of. I mean, yes,” George suddenly found himself explaining sufganiyot to a guy he barely knew and was regretting about half of his life choices. “Anyway, I just thought since we…” 

“Were flirting in the mailroom?” Rich supplied helpfully. “Cos I was definitely flirting with you in the mail room.” 

“Yeah,” That got George to smile a genuine smile. He thought he might be blushing a little. “I was starting to think maybe I’d read the whole thing wrong.” 

“No, I just thought the whole flustered explaining donuts thing was pretty adorable and didn’t want to stop it,” Rich pointed at the box. “Do you think those go with red wine or white wine? ‘Cos I’ve got both. I might even have a rose.”

They drank half a bottle of each and ate half the box of donuts before deciding the white wine was a much better choice.

George had never been great at dating. The upper midwest had hardly been the most progressive, gay-friendly dating world. Atlanta had been shaping up to be better, but by the time he’d had the lay of the land, he was also mostly doing super shady business dealings. It hadn’t exactly been a recipe for asking anyone out.

It was Christmas Day - two whole weeks since his last encounter with Rich - and George was working on the assumption that Rich had gone to see family for the holiday. He thought he should have gone back up there, but he hadn’t managed to come up with an excuse. Somehow just wanting to see him didn’t seem to cut it. 

He settled for ordering Chinese food deciding that with few other options there was no reason not to play an ethnic stereotype. He would at least tip whoever was spending their holiday delivering food to people like him wasn’t having quite as bad of a day as they could be. 

“Don’t tell me you deliver Chinese food on the side?” George had answered the knock at the door expecting the delivery guy and found Rich instead. 

Rich smirked, “They were gonna leave it with the doorman. Luckily, I was downstairs trying to bribe the doorman into telling me which apartment you were in,” He handed him the bag of food. He also held up another bottle of wine. “Found that rose I thought I had. Think that goes with Chinese food?” 

“Who says I’m sharing?” George returned the smirk, but was already pushing the door open for Rich to come in.

One sweet and sour chicken combination platter and a full bottle of rose later, George had learned that Rich was from Boston. He was an architect and being a low man on the pole at the firm he’d just signed on with last month meant flying back to Boston.

“I should call it a night,” Somehow they’d ended up watching It’s a Wonderful Life and all of a sudden, the 10 o’clock news was nearly over. “I have to pretend I’m going to get up to go to Church in the morning so I only have to half lie to my mom.”

“That’s pretty much the same tactic I took with my mom for Chanukah,” George laughed, standing up to walk him to the door.

George had spent all of the weather and sports report trying to decide what his move was here. He wanted to kiss Rich, but had gotten caught up in negotiating the logistics of it. He really should have had as much anxiety about all the money-laundering he’d helped with before he got caught, but here they were. 

Before he could think more about it and before Rich could get the door, Rich closed the space between them, kissing George hard on the mouth. It had been a good idea to go through a full bottle of rose or he probably wouldn’t have the courage to do that either. 

“That, um, okay?” Rich asked, pulling away from him, but staying close and sharing the space between them with George. 

“Uh huh, that’s definitely okay.” 

Kissing quickly devolved into fingers reaching for buttons on shirts and the pair of them moving back into the apartment and toward the bedroom. George was far too caught up in the moment to be thinking straight until Rich’s hands were on his belt. 

“Stop, stop…” George pulled away realizing there was no way to actually go through with this and not have to give away a whole lot of his secrets. Unless he wanted to wait a good 9 months before he finally made a move with Rich, he was going to have to do a whole lot of explaining.

“Whoa, sorry, I got carried away,” Rich stepped back, a hand carding through his own hair. “I’m not usually so fast. I mean technically it took me two months to get up the courage to do this, but there was only, like, one date in there.” 

“It’s not that.” 

“Oh, have you never...with a guy before...I mean, I know you said you’re from the midwest. I get it my parents are kind of conservative.”

“I’ve had sex before with men,” George said almost offended that Rich thought he’d gotten to his age without ever having sex. “So have a lot of people in the midwest.” 

“What, then? I mean, I can slow it down here. I don’t have to have sex tonight. But I thought you were into it.”

“I was, I am. It’s just…” George sighed and motioned to the couch. Rich sat down, and George stood in front of him. “I’m not James Bond.”

“I do actually know that.”

“Yeah, that’s not…” George pulled up his pant leg. The monitor on his ankle revealing the monitor, something Rich had only seen in actual spy thrillers. “I, uh, I have a little bit of legal trouble.” 

“How little?” Rich frowned looking from the monitor back up to George’s face. 

“I told you the truth. I work with computers. I got in a little bit of trouble doing some computer stuff for some not very great guys, and I got caught. This and my job, it’s all part of a deal to make what I did go away. It’s gonna take a good five years to do that including one where I have to wear this and not leave Atlanta.” 

Rich nodded, trying to piece together what not great guys meant. Hedge Fund Tycoons? The Mob? Both sounded bad. 

“Are you in, like, witness protection?”

“No, I was living in Atlanta when all this went down. You know my real name and all of that.” 

“Are you in danger?” It was unsaid, but the question also implied was Rich in danger by staying in his apartment.

“No, the people involved are all in jail. I’m totally safe and so is anyone I’m -- friends with,” He reassured him. “I was going to tell you when it came up, but we were still in the getting to know each other, icebreaker stage of our whole relationship. I avoided a prison sentence by making a deal with the FBI was a much harder icebreaker than offering you a jelly donut. You get that, right?”

There was another slow, contemplative nod from Rich. He took a deep breath. George looked around for where Rich’s shirt had landed when they were fooling around in the doorway assuming that he was going to be looking for a speedy exit. He picked it up and carried it over to the couch as Rich readied his next question.

“Can you have sex with that on? I mean, it just tells whoevers watching you where you are. Not what you’re doing?” 

“Yeah, yes...Are we still?” 

“Uh huh, we’re still…” Rich agreed. “I’m going to need about a hundred more details about what you did, what your deal entails, and a whole lot of other questions I’ve barely thought of yet, but for right now, bedroom?” 

“Hallway, first door on the right.” 

“Good,” Rich’s confused look turned to a smile and he stood up. “Might as well leave my shirt there,” He suggested, disappearing into the hall. “Hurry up. I’ve been waiting since Thanksgiving for this.”


End file.
